


Embracing Idiocy

by Muffarino



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Oneshot, decided to post here as well, wrote this years ago and posted it on ff.net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffarino/pseuds/Muffarino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mixing two cynics together is never a good thing. Mixing two cynical lovers with a jealous streak was just asking for trouble, and Machiavelli and La Volpe had a lot of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embracing Idiocy

Niccolo Machiavelli and La Volpe had to be two of the most cynical people in Italy. Distrusting of everyone and questioning the motives behind everything.

And they just so happened to be hopelessly in love with one another.

Love between two incredibly stubborn cynics would be all well and fine if they weren't at each other’s throats at every waking moment. And not in a sensual way either.

They supposed it started with La Volpe’s doubts about the younger man’s loyalty, believing him to be a templar spy. This doubt had progressed from betrayal of their friends and allies to betrayal of their loves. Ever since the two got together, things had been tense. Saying they had trust issues would be a glorious understatement. But their bickering would ultimately turn into that all encompassing bliss their love provided.

\--

Machiavelli slapped the thief’s advancing hand away from his shoulder. He growled as he spun around where he stood so his back was to the desk he had been working intently over moments before, his hips now resting on the smooth wood. "Do not touch me with those hands, Volpe.” Machiavelli’s voice was like venom.

La Volpe sighed and rubbed his slender fingers into his temples. “What did I do now, Niccolo?”

“You know very well what it was you did!”

“I have a feeling I’ll be surprised.” La Volpe advanced again, his hand had cupped the assassin’s cheek before he had a chance to protest. “Now, will you grace me with the details of my crime or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Machiavelli ducked away from the offending hand and quickly moved around behind the elder male. He composed himself, and looked back at his lover with that perpetual pride he was well known for. “You have spent more time lately at the Rosa In Fiore than you have in my presence.” He hissed.

La Volpe let out a loud sigh. “Niccolo, we’ve been through this.”

“Have we now? Then why is this still a reoccurring problem?”

“Niccolo, I am a thief. You are an assassin. The courtesans are our allies. You know very well it’s just business.” La Volpe tried explaining patiently.

“But there is no need to be around the courtesans as much as you do! And you are too close with Claudia; I have seen you with her many a time.” Machiavelli jabbed a finger roughly into the thief’s chest.

“And you spend too much time around Ezio, but I am not complaining or whining as you are.”

Machiavelli jerked back suddenly, face bright red. “You know I am only Ezio’s advisor, I must be around him. And besides, why would I be with him when it’s you I love?”

La Volpe let a triumphant little grin spread across his lips. “This is what I've been trying to get across to you about. Why would I bother myself with plain courtesans when I have a beauty like you by my side? Jealousy does not suit you.” The thief’s hands had interwoven with the assassin’s, caressing the other’s fingers and palm with loving touches. “It is business, my love. Nothing more.”

Machiavelli stuttered incoherently for a few moments as he lost himself in the thief’s violet gaze.

“W-why shouldn’t I feel jealous when the man I love spends more time with courtesans than with his lover?”

“Bartolomeo is always talking to the courtesans and Pantasilea never seems to mind.” 

“That is because Bartolomeo is an idiot. Can you honestly see him caring for anything outside of Pantasilea, his fight club or that stupid sword of his?”

The thief chuckled amusedly into his hand. It was a rough and mischievous sound that fit his name all too well. “True that.” La Volpe sighed. “We are too intelligent for our own good, Niccolo.”

Machiavelli had that sort of hopelessly in love smile on his face that sent a pain to your chest like being hit with a throwing knife. “Perhaps we ought to embrace stupidity just this once.”

La Volpe’s eyes sparkled with content and he placed a sweetly innocent kiss to his younger lover’s forehead. “Of course, my jealous idiot.” 

La Volpe had a bruise the size of a certain assassin’s fist on his chest that remained all week long.

And he didn’t regret it a single bit.


End file.
